


You Can’t Just Have Coffee

by PreAlexa



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternative Perspective, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Buffy the Vampire Slayer References, Canon - TV, Community: womenverse, F/F, Girls Kissing, Guilt, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Love Confessions, Mind Manipulation, Mind Rape, No Lesbians Die, One Shot Collection, POV Female Character, Romantic Soulmates, Short One Shot, Soul Sex, Starting Over, Strong Female Characters, Till Death Do Us Part, True Love, What-If, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-25 05:36:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20371546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreAlexa/pseuds/PreAlexa
Summary: A one-shot of Willow’s perspective when Tara walked unexpectedly into their old room, the same day they had a coffee date.Set during Entropy, but with some added perspectives.





	1. Chapter 1

She had walked in, from down the short hallway of the home we once shared, and stood at our doorway for a few moments. I lay on the bed initially unaware, my head into some book I don’t even recall the name anymore because I had been thinking about her all day.

She agreed to have coffee with me this morning. She sat across from me with her hair pulled back from her face, her stunning eyes and lips so soft and beautiful in the late morning light, and she wore my favorite green blouse. Was she aware I would notice? It was all my willpower to restrain myself from reaching across the small table to take her hands. I wanted to go to her, to take her hands in mind, feel our electric connectedness, and devour her. I had never seen her look as calm, nor as confident in a long time. We had switched emotional places.

While haphazardly flipping pages through some book I could care less about, I had been ruminating on how long it might take before I could wrap my soul around her body and ask if she’d reclaim me as hers again. That was my desire, but would she come to trust me again? I had that book open, trying to take notes, but I could only fumble through it. I tried to busy myself with my studies since I stopped the magics. It left me time to think about my failures more so than my accomplishments. I was in an emotional negative space until, with Buffy’s encouragement, I gathered the courage to ask her out for coffee after class. I never stopped loving her, and I’ve always been consumed by her, unfortunately I didn’t convey my love and respect the same she naturally did for me. I wanted to cry. Again.

The hairs on my arms prickled. I felt her energy. She was at my bedroom door. She spoke at that same moment. I was lost in thoughts of her and there she was standing before me. We were always connected. Sometimes not always as you might hope.

“You can’t just have coffee and expect...”

“I know...” I felt the rejection. I felt the shame, the sting of my poor choices. I knew I was rushing her, but I couldn’t help myself. I loved her so much. I had been faithful in my commitment to stop magic, to fix my own issues before seeking her approval again. I understood that 32 days was barely a dent in the spectrum of my journey to sobriety.

The worst moments is when I think about how I treated her. Drunk on my power and righteousness, I abused the woman I love most of all. There is no denying that harsh word anymore. I am sick with myself for doing it. I raped her mind. Not once, but twice, and what I did still feels unforgivable. You know, we may fight demons, vampires and monsters, both human and hellmouth-y, but we are immeasurably flawed, those of us in the Scooby gang. When I step back and really look at ourselves, we can be selfish, self-absorbed and stink of entitlement issues. Not Tara. She was the champion of us all. For someone from an abusive past (that word again, and I added to her pain), she chose a path of forgiveness, she was pure, and strong, and, oh my beautiful Tara. She’s magnificent in her grace, her poise, her maturity, her empathy with the infinite ability to love and forgive. Except me. My arrogance tore her heart apart. My lust and abuse of my newfound powers drove her to leave me.

I sent her so many letters over the course of our separation. I wasn’t willing to admit she broke up with me, that the fault lie in her somehow, but truth is this was all me and she had every right to leave. The slow pulling away began ever since we brought Buffy back. I had changed from that Wicca group Willow wanting to do something more than floating pencils into someone possessed in my powers. Nerdy little Willow was the strongest of the Scoobies. I was rank with vanity and self-importance. It’s true, in the beginning, I wanted to help others, but the desires turned selfish. I understand this about myself now. They say better late than never, but it doesn’t always apply to those you deeply love and lose.

I would send a letter every few days because I wanted her read my sorrow and regret. She needed my apologies, or in the very least, my acknowledgments. What I did was wrong, careless, and hurtful. Like slamming a plate onto the ground and seeing it shatter, it doesn’t mean it’s still not fractured, or the same again, just because you manage to glue it back. She never replied to my letters. I didn’t expect her to. Maybe I hoped she might. I knew I was being possessive where I had no right to be. I hadn’t earned her forgiveness. All I knew to do was to remind her I’m Willow, I’m a work in progress and trying my best to grow, learn, listen and even forgive myself, if I could.

I took another month to back away, allow her room to breathe and show her I was determined to change. I used that time to adjust to a new world without magic. My sobriety was for her initially, as well as after harming Dawn. These last few acts was the final straw. I always knew the power in me was too strong for me to control. Tara saw through it and she understood and recognized what I couldn't. She tried to warn me, and I refused to listen.

“Willow, you’re using too much magic. What do you want me to do, just sit back and keep my mouth shut?” Oh God, I remember her at the Bronze, her tan coat, with those soulful eyes pleading with me.

“WelI, it’d be a nice start.” I replied with such venom. I didn’t know I had it in me to be so cruel. Her eyes brimming with the sting of my words. She had greater power than most people realized. She knew how to control and channel her powers in a respectful and responsible manner, from years of study and practice, whereas, hey, look at me, Willow Rosenberg, and, hello, like gonna shift people in alternate time portals for a second.

“If I didn’t love you so damn much I would!” She turned and stormed away from me. I’ve never seen her this angry. I deserved all of it.

She sees my dress in the bedroom.

"There's so much to work through. Trust has to build again, on both sides ... you have to learn if you're even the same people you were, if you can fit in each other's lives again. It takes time..."

That small speech sealed into my heart as she entered the room, past the closet where I hung that dress. I never put it in the closet. It was a metaphor of sorts. I chose to keep it hanging on the door. It was the dress I wore when we strolled across a bridge, in the park, and she sang her enchanted and melodic song - a song flavored with the travesties I did to her, and I knew the song held a hidden layer, but we still made love that day. It would be the last time since she left. I kept it there as a reminder. She sang a love song for me, and it was always about me. She did everything for me and how did I repay her?

She turned to look at me. Her soft and feminine form, and her starlit blue eyes, especially beautiful to me, as I feel so vulnerable for her. She was cloaked in a black leather jacket and it was all I could do to keep myself steady on the bed. I wanted to cry. Again.

“It’s a long and important process...”

I cringed inwardly at myself, picking at the lace bedspread nervously. She was right. I could not expect her to forgive me over a cup of coffee sharing Scooby stories during our time apart. The more I replayed our conversation, it always seemed to go back to me. She wouldn’t talk much of herself, and I didn’t do well at asking. I was ecstatic she agreed to meet me for a coffee date. I made it about my coffee date with her. When I’m nervous, I always talk too much. Always.

I cast a downward glance of reproach at the carpeting of the bedroom. I know what’s coming next. She needs more time, or she’s made up her mind to cut ties with me. This is how she must have felt when Oz entered the picture that one fateful afternoon. My poor, beloved Tara.

“Can’t we just skip it? Can...can you just be kissing me now?”

My heart seized, I was caught in a dream, then the beats stopped altogether, the only remaining oxygen in my lungs keeping me from dying of joy before I breathe again. I’m quite unsure I heard her correctly. I took another sharp breath, steadying myself and pulled my gaze upwards at her, the carpeted floor no longer of interest to me. Her deep, imploring eyes are saying what I think they are. My eyes more than plead for the same. She asked me to kiss her. I leapt from the bed and barreled into her arms. My dearest Tara, how I will do my best to never betray your faith in me again.

She kisses me passionately. Oh god, I don’t deserve her, but right now, right this very second, I’m going to pour my essence into her and maybe I can begin to fill her cup again. We kiss briefly though, before I drop to my knees and release the rest of my tears. She gathers me, we both are on the floor, and I cry my shame into her arms. She kisses my tears. I look at her, my vision a blur. “I love you, Tara. Oh, God, I love you."


	2. Chapter 2

She gathered me into her arms and held me, rocking me gently against her. There seemed to be no end to my tears and she waited patiently, allowing me to selfishly cry all my fears, my fears about myself, my irresponsible abuse of magics, my unforgivable acts against her. She stayed with me. I was alone for most of my journey to recovery, but now she was here. She was with me and every moment we touched, every second of time that passed she didn’t let go of me, I felt some of her strength seep back into me.

I held onto her tightly with my arms around her shoulders, pulling her in. She kissed away a few tears, here and there, but something compelled me to show her all my raw pain, my vulnerability and not hide my face, nor shield it from her. I opened myself into her arms and held her face between my hands and broke down. I didn’t do it for her to pity me. I did it because I loved her so much. I had no words left in me, but maybe my body, and my jagged breaths for air, and the wetness of my face would tell her more than I could verbally express.

She stood up, and pulled me up with her. She walked us over to the bed where we sat down. Finally, after so many lost and lonely months, we were together at last. I wanted to question if this was real, a one night bender we were about to share, or if she really forgave me. I couldn’t yet. I couldn’t go into that territory right now. She was fresh, she was here and all I could think about was diving downward into her to taste all of her essence without using a single drop of magic. I was determined to show her the depth of my commitments and desires for her. To show Tara that I could be present for her and not one moment longer would I wait.


End file.
